Page 32 of Weather the Storm
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, worried she regrets what just happened between us.
“I…I have so m-many emotions r-running through me right now, I’m not even sure which way is up.”
“Talk to me, okay? Don’t shut me out.” I press a kiss to the top of her head, breathing in the calming lavender scent of her hair.
“I won’t shut you out, I promise.”
“Good.” I unwrap myself from around her, and she whines at the loss of contact. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” I slip my sweats back on and toss Magnolia the shirt she slept in before padding down the hall to the kitchen.
I quickly put on a pot of coffee and throw together a quick breakfast consisting of fresh fruit and cheesy eggs. “Where’s that damn tray,” I mumble to myself, opening and closing cabinets looking for the serving tray Myla Rose insisted I needed. As a last-ditch effort, I check the cabinet over the fridge. “Found it!” I exclaim, victorious.
I pile our food and mugs of coffee onto the tray, taking slow, measured steps back down the hall as to not slosh any coffee over the rims of the mugs. “Hope you’re hungry,” I say as I step back into the bedroom.
“Is this…did you do this for me?” Magnolia asks, pressing a hand to her chest.
“Certainly did, Goldilocks.”
Those tears she’d been trying to keep at bay finally spill over, and I worry I’ve somehow screwed up. “Oh, S-Simon. This is the n-nicest thing anyone has ever d-done for me.”
“Get used to it, pretty girl, because as long as you’re mine, it’s just a way of life. Taking care of you is as natural as breathing.”
“I’m yours?” she asks, hope coloring her tone.
“You wanna be mine?”
“D-don’t you know b-better than to answer a question with a question?” I quirk my brow at her, and she laughs then replies, “Yeah, Simon, I wanna be yours.”
“Exactly what I was hopin’ you’d say. Now, let’s eat.”
We dig into our food, and the eggs cause Magnolia to moan much the same wayIcause her to moan. “Good, right?”
“Oh my God, s-so good.”
“Not as good as yours, but thanks.” I have a lot I want us to talk about this morning, but I know she’ll need her energy for the conversation, so I decide to wait until we’re both fed and caffeinated.
Once both our bellies are full, I place our plates back on the tray and set it down on the dresser—the dishes can wait.
“Magnolia.” I tuck her long hair back behind her ear, brushing my fingers over her cheeks. “We need to talk.”
Her eyes become guarded and weary, and I hate it. “We…we do?”
“We do.” I crawl up next to her on the bed and draw her close. “Not about us, but about everything that has happened and everything that is happening.”
“Yeah, o-okay.”
“I gotta ask…do you really think your husband had anything to do with your car?”
“My gut says yes, but I don’t know. D-doesn’t that seem farfetched?”
“Hard for me to say, but if you truly think it was him, then I believe you. I need you to know that. Also need you to know I’ll protect you from him—and anyone else who means you harm.”
Magnolia melts into me, and I love it.
“Next thing: y’all are still married?” I grit my teeth in anticipation of her reply. The thought of her beinghisin any way has my blood rushing so loudly, I swear I can hear it roaring, like a raging river.
“Yes,” she whispers, her voice breaking.
“Explain,” I prompt, careful to keep my tone calm and even.
